Thick as Thieves
by XxTwistedThornxX
Summary: She hurt him in more ways than he dared to mention. He regretted not going with her and Mercer to Snow Veil Sanctum. He regretted that he hadn't been the one to slit her traitorous little throat. He regretted that he'd never be able to ask her "why?"
1. Chapter 1

Frozen. Gods, she couldn't even blink. Athyn watched helplessly, vision blurry, as a figure towered above her. Mercer Frey. She could hear the sneer in his voice as he taunted her, wishing her muscles weren't turned to stone so she could cast a scowl his way. _Stick around until the poison wears off, hot-shot. We'll see who's laughing then._

The unmistakable sound of a blade unsheathing turned her blood to ice, any other sarcastic thought she may have had was nipped in the bud. He meant to kill her. He honest to Stendarr meant to kill her. Athyn was unsure of what appalled her more: the fact that she didn't see this coming or the fact that she couldn't do anything to stop it.

_They'll never find my body down in this pit, either. What a way to go._ _Thanks a lot, you rat-bastard._

Mercer pressed his blade against Athyn's throat. He smelled of sweat, leather, and mold. If she _had _to die, she would have preferred to be out in the woods somewhere, surrounded by the scent of pine and maple. Life wasn't fair, she supposed.

Her eyes, the color of maple-sap, watched Mercer with as much defiance as she could muster. He could kill her, leave her to rot in the same place he left Gallus, but he would not have the satisfaction of seeing her frightened in her last moments. She felt rage flood through her as he stared at her with unbridled amusement.

"Act brave all you want, elf," he snickered, pressing the cool edge of his dwarven blade against her jugular. "It won't change the fact that only one of us is walking away from this place. Déjà vu all over again," he sighed dreamily. Then, a sick grin twisted his features and his eyes sparkled maliciously in the dim torchlight. "Poor Brynjolf, I'll be sure to let him know all about how you _betrayed _me and I was forced to put you down. Elves have to stick together, right?"

Some emotion must have flashed in her eyes—Athyn inwardly cursed—because Mercer's grin widened and he slowly pulled the blade across her skin. She felt the bite of the corundum edge as it split her flesh, felt the sticky warmth cascading from the seam. It hurt, but nothing but the dilation of her pupils could betray the pain she felt engulfing her body like a flame.

"I always knew you'd break his little heart…"

Athyn couldn't hear the rest. There was a frantic thundering in her ears, blocking out all noise. Darkness seeped into her vision, obscuring Mercer's armored back as he calmly strode away from the puddle of blood pooling around her.

A sick gurgle—hardly profound last words—erupted from her open throat before she was completely overcome by the abyss.

* * *

Brynjolf stood in the kitchen. The home was dark, quiet, so unlike the Honeyside he had come to know. He expected to hear the soft patter of Bosmer feet scurrying about, to feel her honey-skinned arms wrap around his neck as she leapt onto his back.

Nothing happened.

Brynjolf fought against the wave of disappointment that flooded through him, kept his eyes cold and his shoulders stiff. He meandered through the rest of the house, absently running his fingers along the different gems and baubles decorating her shelves. His fingertips itched, begging for him to slip the diamonds and sapphires into his pockets. He pulled his hand away.

_How could you do it, Lass?_ He must've asked the same question a million times by now. He turned into the bedroom and his eyes landed on the plush, immaculate bed. He grimaced, a bitter taste filled his mouth but he couldn't tear his gaze away. How many nights had he crept through her back door just to join her between those emerald sheets?

He had tried to deny it, at first, told himself that a mistake had been made. But, when Mercer presented him with Wind-Catcher—the bow she had made with her own two hands, white wood and silver designs painstakingly carved into its surface—there had been no disputing it.

"This is my baby," she'd once told him, skillfully shooting the apple that was half-way to Rune's mouth, "the only way anyone could even _dream _of taking her away from me would be to pry her from my cold, dead hands."

Brynjolf slipped the bow from his back and trailed a calloused finger over the wood. His hands shook and his eyes were burning as a flood of emotion overtook him. Athyn had joined up with that murderous bitch, Karliah. Then, she tried to double-cross Mercer. _Damn fool._

She had betrayed the guild, and worse, she had betrayed him.

_You damned fool! _ The thought repeated over and over in his mind, though he didn't know if it were dedicated to him or the Bosmer. He glared at Wind-Catcher, gripped it on each end and snapped it across his knee. The sound of splintering wood didn't quell his anger, if anything, it added fuel to the fire.

He threw the worthless weapon to the ground, whirled around, and punched the looking glass hanging from her wall. He ripped valuables off their displays, shattered vases, and ripped the pillows and sheets from her bed, spitting and cursing and condemning her to all the planes of Oblivion he could name.

She'd hurt him. Hurt him in more ways than he dared to mention. He regretted not going with her and Mercer to Snow Veil Sanctum. He regretted that he hadn't been the one to slit her traitorous little throat. He regretted that he'd never be able to ask her "why?"

Once the bedroom was thoroughly trashed, Brynjolf sank to the floor. He realized he was screaming, his mouth was dry and throat raw. His knuckles bled from shards of glass that were imbedded in his flesh, but he made no effort to remove them.

This was as much his fault as hers. He had put complete faith in her after she demonstrated her uncanny knack for taking care of business. He trusted her with everything he was, expecting her to honor and respect him and the guild just as much as he honored and respected her.

He should've known the little Bosmer was lying to him all along.

* * *

Athyn groaned and rolled to her side, her nose wrinkling at the feel of ice on her cheekbones. Her eyelids fluttered open, sight slowly adjusting to the firelight blazing ahead.

"You're awake," a dimly familiar voice noted. Athyn squinted and located the source: A Dunmer woman stood about fifteen feet away from her, tending to the campfire.

"You," Athyn grimaced and held a hand to her throat. Her voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper. The Dunmer calmly walked over and offered her a waterskin, which she took eagerly. Once Athyn was satisfied, she took a quick scan of her surroundings.

Snow. Snow as far as the eye could see.

_Great! So that puts me in…Skryim._

North Skyrim, if she wanted to be fair. Which she didn't. Athyn's eyes narrowed at the Dunmer, who seemed to sense the malicious stare since she turned to match the Bosmer's glare with her lavender one.

"Before you say anything," she cut Athyn off, dark lips smirking at the look of utter outrage crossing the Bosmer's features at being interrupted. "We're just outside Snow Veil Sanctum. You should be thanking me, the poison from my arrow slowed you heart. You would have bled out before I would've been able to heal you."

"And Mercer?"

"Gone."

Athyn scowled and forced herself to her shaky feet. She was freezing and the fire looked inviting. She pulled the blanket with her and sat on it, watching the Dunmer roast a rabbit over the open flame. "You're Karliah."

"You're observant."

Athyn bit the inside of her cheek, pulled her knees to her chest and focused on the flames flickering before her. "I'm guessing, since I'm still alive, that Mercer wasn't up front with me about you."

"Your gravest mistake was believing Mercer to be 'up front' with you about anything."

"Well it was his word over a stranger," Athyn bit back, "I had no reason not to believe the guild master—and everyone _else_, I might add—when I was told we were going after a murderer."

Karliah frowned, slipping the rabbit from the spit and ripping a leg off with her hands. She wordlessly handed it to Athyn before taking her own share and sitting beside the Bosmer. Athyn stared at the rabbit leg hungrily and wasted no time devouring the meat like a starving wolf. Karliah watched her with a hint of distaste and took a delicate bite out of her dinner before speaking.

"Mercer claimed I grew hungry with greed and murdered Gallus in cold blood. Without me there to defend myself, there was little room for doubt that Mercer was telling the truth. He is no doubt spreading similar lies about you."

"Only a fool would believe the same story twice."

"The Guild is falling apart," Karliah said pointedly, "they can't afford to question authority." The Dunmer continued to nibble at the rabbit leg. "If things had gone according to plan, Mercer would be dead and the truth would come out. But, as ill-luck would have it, I had to waste the poison that took me years to perfect on you."

Athyn scowled and threw the leg bone into the snow. "Well, excuse me! It's not like I knew about this little plan of yours! If you're so amazing why didn't you write the recipe down then? Or gods forbid, had the foresight to know things can go wrong and took the time to make a back-up!"

Karliah was silent, watching the Bosmer with steady eyes as rage visibly consumed her. She ranted and screamed, her gently curved nose was turning red from the cold. Her bright amber eyes were wide and furious, turning glassy as tears dribbled from the corners.

"It's all ruined," her voice cracked and she held a hand up to the scar along her neck. "My friends—my _family —_I have nothing now because of _you_!" Athyn clenched her eyes shut, an image of Brynjolf, disappointed and angry, invaded her mind and she choked. "I hated you before, when I thought that you were the cause for the Guild's downfall, but I hate you even more now! You could have gotten a clear shot at Mercer if you'd waited, but you were just too damn impatient, weren't you?"

Karliah watched as the small elf's shoulders shuddered as she tried to reign in her tears. The Dunmer calmly finished the meat and dropped the bone to the ground. She stood and the Bosmer watched her warily as she approached and pulled her glove more firmly over her hand.

Lavender met with amber, their gazes locking for a brief moment and Athyn wondered what the Dunmer would say in her defense.

Karliah said nothing, only drew her hand back and struck Athyn's cheek with the flat of her palm. The Bosmer's head snapped to the side from the impact and she stumbled and fell on her rump in the snow.

"If you're quite finished feeling sorry for yourself," Karliah scowled, "we can focus on getting _our _home back." Athyn growled and lunged at the Dunmer, but was stopped by the tip of a blade against her throat. She hadn't even seen Karliah reach for it. "You're angry, I know that, I felt the same way when Mercer betrayed me and Gallus," she put a bit more pressure on the knife and Athyn took a cautious step back. "But, you need to keep a level head. If you run into this with rage clouding your senses, you'll just die at the hands of the people you once called 'friends,' we _need _to be smart about this."

Athyn grit her teeth and nodded, wheat-blonde hair escaping from one of her braids to dangle in her face. Once Karliah was sure the Bosmer wouldn't try to rip her apart with her teeth, she sheathed her blade and stepped over to her pack, pulling out a battered leather-bound book.

"This is Gallus's journal," she explained, handing the book over. Athyn took it in her hands and ran her fingers along the rough leather. "I believe it will contain all we need to prove our innocence and take Mercer down once and for all."

"You 'believe?' You haven't read it?"

"That's the issue," Karliah grimaced and motioned for Athyn to open the book. Athyn complied, unraveling the string holding the cover shut and opening the journal at the middle. Her eyes were bombarded with symbols she'd never seen before, a language long since dead and buried.

"Well, this is a huge help," she scowled, slamming the cover shut. "_This _is your plan? What're we going to do? Say it's some secret code that only you can read and pull a story out of our asses?"

"No. You are going to take the journal to Winterhold. I know someone, an old friend of Gallus that may be able to help decipher what is written."

"Don't think I didn't notice that you only mentioned me."

"Mercer thinks you dead, but he knows that I escaped. He'll have men searching for me and I can't risk getting caught. Not after I'm so close."

Athyn scowled and glared down at the journal. "As always, I get stuck with the grunt work," she muttered under her breath. "This had better be worth as much as you think it is."

"I hope it will."

"You're not too good at the whole optimism thing, are you?"

"I am about as skilled in optimism as you are in gratitude."

Athyn felt her face flush and one of her pointed ears twitched in irritation.

"Thank you for saving my life," she ground out through her teeth. Karliah sighed and put a gloved hand on Athyn's shoulder, handing her the leather satchel the Bosmer used as a pack.

"Thank me properly when we're home in Riften."

Athyn nodded and took her bag from the Dunmer's hand, slipping the journal safely inside. Optimism and gratitude aside, Athyn looked up at the sky to determine which direction she was facing.

"To Winterhold, I guess," she sighed and slipped a hand to her shoulder, then paused. "Where is my bow?"

"You didn't have one with you when I returned to recover you from the Sanctum."

"That bastard took my bow!" Athyn's voice was shrill and she clenched her fists as they shook with rage. "When we get back to Riften, I'm going to slit that Horker-humping-son-of-a-bitch's throat with a rusted dagger!"

"Then you'd best get that journal to Winterhold as swiftly as possible."

Athyn nodded, her face burning red with anger. She took off running toward the town, not slowing even as her feet slipped on the ice.

Karliah watched her go, shaking her head bemusedly. "Well," she sighed to herself, "at least what she lacks in propriety she makes up for in passion."

**The last half is in the works, this story would just be too long if I decided to make this a one-shot. I was never overly fond of Karliah, I thought she had a snooty voice and she COULD have had a back-up poison or at least waited until I was out of the freaking way. Despite my dislike for her, I tried to keep her as in character as I could.**


	2. Chapter 2

** Sweet baby Jeebus! Thank you so much for all the favorites and for the reviews! I had no idea this story would get such positive feedback! *big smiles***

_ "Now, what is this?"_

_ Brynjolf jumped, glancing over his shoulder as his hand hovered over a sparkling sapphire lying on the shelf. A small shadow stood behind him, hip cocked to one-side and arms folded across a very feminine chest. They moved slowly to the kitchen table and lit a candle, the light of the flame illuminating dark-honey skin and amber eyes sparkling mischievously. Brynjolf gaped and lowered his hand to his side._

_ "What are you doing here, lass?"_

_ The Bosmer grinned, leaning against the table with an amused arch of her eyebrow._

_ "What can I say? Your little organization has been doing well for me. Though, the real question is what are **you** doing here?"_

_ Shock washed over him and Brynjolf hastily stood to his full height, dwarfing the Bosmer in his shadow._

_ "**You** bought Honeyside?"_

_ Athyn laughed, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her delicately pointed ear._

_ "I would have thought the Guild would have that information on hand," she mused, taking a step towards the Nord. She cocked her head to one side, eyes meeting his. "Do you always come to burgle your new recruits or am I just lucky?"_

_ Brynjolf chuckled. The shock of being caught faded away and he mirrored Athyn's cocky stance._

_ "You're lucky, but my heart is breaking. You have quite the collection here, lass." To prove his point, Brynjolf reached into his pack and pulled out a handful of gems and jewelry he had swiped during his raid. Athyn's amber eyes rested on the baubles, her red lips lifting into a smirk._

_ "Are you planning on putting them back?"_

_ "Unfortunately, it's against the code to steal from other members of the guild. So, I guess I will," Brynjolf sighed. Athyn took another step toward him, just a breath away now. She smelled of the forest and mountain air. Her wheat-blonde hair was unbraided for once, hanging loosely to her shoulders._

_ "I suppose I could be persuaded to let you keep them…"_

Cold water enveloped him. Brynjolf coughed and sputtered, flailing about as his head popped up for air. Vex stood on the dry platform of the Ragged Flagon, icy eyes narrowed irritably at him and arms crossed.

"Are you finished ignoring me now?" She scowled. Brynjolf pulled his dripping body out of the water, muttering about his waterlogged armor.

"Did you really have to push me in?" He grumbled, sitting at a table so he could pull his boot off and shake the water out of it. Vex sat across from him, shaking her head as she watched.

"You're pathetic, you know?"

Brynjolf's eyes narrowed dangerously, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Vex huffed and leaned back in her seat, "You've been distracted for the past three weeks, let it go."

Three weeks? Had it really been that long? Brynjolf moved to retort but Vex continued, "It's not the first time something like this has happened to the Guild. I know you and the little elf were buddies, but that doesn't change the fact that she's gone now. Sitting around here, drowning yourself in ale and self-pity isn't going to help, especially since Mercer left to chase after Karliah." Vex kicked him under the table when he opened his mouth to protest. "I don't care if this isn't what you want to hear, it's the truth. You're in charge and yet you've been doing nothing but mope around the Flagon. You leave every night to go gods know where and let us fend for ourselves! We need someone to keep things running, Bryn! If you can't, then pass the gauntlet to Delvin or someone else because we can't risk the guild sinking further than it already has!"

"Fine," Brynjolf scowled. "Tell Delvin it's all up to him."

Vex scowled but she said nothing else on the matter. She stood and stormed off and left Brynjolf to watch her walk away with a frown. After a few moments, he sighed and abandoned the tavern—dragging himself through the Ratway out into town. He slipped through the night, undetected by the guards patrolling the mostly empty streets.

Brynjolf found himself in front of Honeyside before his mind could even register that he had made the journey. He stared at the dark windows and the wilted plants in the once beautiful garden.

He could never forgive her. But gods, that didn't mean he didn't miss her.

* * *

"Look how wrinkled this is!" Enthir held the paper between his thumb and forefinger, grimacing as he tried to decipher the charcoal rubbing. Athyn sneered at the other Bosmer, slamming her flagon of mead on the table. Karliah—_Oh, so you can join me __**now **__princess?—_jumped at the sudden movement and narrowed her violet eyes at the younger elf.

"Tell you what: next time you need something retrieved from a dwemer-rigged _shithole_, you can go yourself. I've been in a lot of tight binds before, but never one that I had to jump into a damned _waterfall_ to avoid. So, sorry, your rubbing got wrinkly, deal with it."

"I think you've had quite enough," Karliah sighed, taking the flagon and dumping its contents into a chamberpot, ignoring the young Bosmer's protests. Enthir shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the black rubbing before flipping open Gallus's journal. He sighed in relief.

"You're in luck. I'll be able to translate this with little trouble," he smiled at Karliah, pointedly ignoring his kinsman, before returning his attention to the book. His brow furrowed and he frowned, "This…doesn't look good."

"What does it say?" Karliah asked, moving to look over Enthir's shoulder as though she could help decipher the cryptic entry.

"Gallus suspected Mercer was stealing from the guild. Here, let me transcribe a translation for you."

"Thank you Enthir," Karliah watched him eagerly, listening intently as he read entry after entry. Athyn tried to force her mead-buzzed brain to pay attention to what Enthir was saying, but she honestly didn't care about why Gallus was murdered. She'd never known him and he'd never done anything for her, so what was the big deal? All that mattered was that they had proof that she—_and Karliah_, Athyn begrudgingly added as an afterthought—was innocent.

"We need to get to the Guild. They can't ignore evidence like this," Karliah said, taking the newly translated journal and slipping it into her pack. The Dunmer turned to Athyn and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Athyn shrunk back in her seat warily, meeting Karliah's lavender eyes and scowling.

"What?"

"I expected some sort of remark out of you, yet you've been uncharacteristically silent despite all we've learned."

"Mercer is stealing from the guild and we're innocent, there's nothing really to say. All we need to do now is kill the bastard and go home."

"Not in that order, but I suppose you're right," Karliah turned to Enthir, thanking him on last time before she motioned for Athyn to follow her out of the inn. Athyn stood, slightly dizzy and shaky on her feet, but she refused to admit that Karliah had been right in cutting off her drinking binge. She followed the Dunmer as quick as she could, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

_This is going to be a long trip…_

* * *

"Oh, thank the gods," Athyn groaned, seeing Riften's gates shadowed in the evening sun. Karliah gave a small hum of agreement and shifted her bow on her shoulder. The days had been long and rough; the pair of elves only stopped to sleep for a few hours at night and took their meals as they walked. "I'm exhausted."

"Don't relax just yet," Karliah chastised, "We aren't even inside the city, and even when we are it will be far from a vacation."

Athyn groaned and forced her weary muscles to keep moving, "I can't take Mercer on like this. I'll be dead long before his sword tries to slit my throat a second time."

"For once, I think we agree," Karliah sighed. Athyn's ear twitched and she straightened slightly.

"I have a house, you know. We could lay low until the morning and recuperate before heading to the guild. It's in the back of the town and hardly anyone ever passes by, it should be safe."

Karliah didn't seem so sure, but her body was begging for a reprieve. She hesitantly nodded and followed the Bosmer inside the city. Past the gates, the elves quickly ducked into an alley, taking side streets and avoiding other citizens until they arrived in front of Honeyside.

Athyn retrieved her key and ushered the Dunmer inside. She locked the door behind them and looked around her neglected kitchen with a sigh. Karliah didn't seem impressed, but kept her mouth shut as she glanced about.

"There's an extra room downstairs," Athyn said, moving towards her own bedroom. "You can rest up there and-" The Bosmer's amber eyes widened, taking in the wreckage. Her bed was ripped apart, sheets, pillows and furs strewn across the room. Books had been thrown from the shelf and ceramic shards from what she guessed had once been her vase littered the floor. And there, at her feet, lay Wind-Catcher. Her prized bow was snapped in half, the splintered wood gazing up at her accusingly and her breath caught in her throat.

Athyn kneeled and took the broken weapon in her shaking hands, "Who could've done this?"

Karliah surveyed the damage with a frown, it didn't seem like the kind of thing Mercer would do, nor was it the work of some small-time burglar. The way Athyn cradled the bow in her hands led Karliah to believe that this attack was personal. Emotional.

"Your bow can be repaired," she offered, picking a few books off the floor and replacing them on the shelf with a frown. Athyn nodded slightly, tracing her fingers along the wood. "Come, let's straighten up a bit and try to focus on why we're here. You can hunt down the culprit once Mercer is taken care of."

Athyn gasped and looked up.

"It had to have been someone from the Guild!" She exclaimed, "Mercer stole my bow, remember? He must have brought it back to show them that I was dead, but…"

_Poor Brynjolf, I always knew you'd break his little heart._

Athyn's throat constricted, the distress she felt at losing her favorite weapon was quickly overshadowed by the reason of its destruction. The elf was unsure if it was rage or sorrow that consumed her, so often had she felt the two emotions side-by-side. She bit her lip and carefully moved the weapon into the other room before returning to help clean her room, deciding that it could wait until morning.

"Everything will be fixed soon enough," Karliah promised upon her return.

"Oh look," Athyn forced a weak smirk and began fixing her bed, "you _can_ be optimistic."

* * *

Brynjolf stopped himself before he went any further. What was he doing? Every night he made the same journey, and every night he met the same disappointment. He was only prolonging his misery and he knew it. But, his feet began moving once again and he moved silently through the town.

_This will be the last time,_ he decided. _Just one last look and then I'll never come back._ He remembered he had made quite a mess of the place and frowned. Athyn would've killed him…if she could. He rounded the corner, prepared to be met with the dark, dusty windows and neglected garden—prepared for disappointment.

What he saw turned his feet to lead and flipped his stomach. Firelight streamed through the glass, it was dim but it was there. Brynjolf shook his head in disbelief and slipped to the window, lifting his head enough to peek inside the kitchen.

_It can't be…_

Athyn sat at her table, forlornly tracing the patterns carved into the shattered wood of her bow. The fire made her skin shine and Brynjolf noticed a thick scar wrapped around her neck, blemishing her once perfect skin. His mind was flooded with a thousand thoughts, ranging from barging in and ravishing her to throwing her down and finishing the job that Mercer started.

So many emotions, so many scenarios he could play out in his mind. But, they all were proof of one thing. Athyn was here.

She was alive.

**Two more parts coming up! Thank you for your support! Reviews are love!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for all your reviews and support! Just one more chapter (and maybe an epilogue…maybe) I'm debating on writing a lemon for this, but I'm honestly not sure. As of right now, it's up in the air, but if you have any preference, feel free to send a message or put it in a review, if I do it this way I'll just go with the majority.**

Athyn tossed about in her bed, the feather-filled mattress feeling far too spacious for her to relax. She knew she should try and rest, that she'd need the energy to confront Mercer come morning, but the coldness beside her made the frigid air of the tundra seem inviting. The elf sighed, relenting to lay flat on her back and force her eyes to remain shut.

She was nervous, and not just about taking on the guild leader. Would the rest of the guild believe what she and Karliah had to say? Would they trust Gallus's journal as though he were standing before them, or would she and Karliah be cut down before they could defend themselves?

She briefly wondered if Brynjolf would be the one to kill her.

Athyn shook her head and groaned, rolling over on her left side and hugging the pillow close. It still smelled like Brynjolf and the Bosmer smiled to herself. Enveloped by his scent, she felt her mind relax and drift off. It was almost as though he were there with her.

* * *

Brynjolf carefully shut the backdoor behind him, his eyes immediately landing on the lump beneath Athyn's sheets that gently rose and fell with even breaths. His eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him, she was _there_. With silent steps, he approached, slinking around to the opposite side—his side, a part of him corrected—of the bed to see the elf's face.

Her eyes were closed. A soft, blissful smile adorned her lips as she dreamed, nuzzling her nose into the pillow. Strands of her soft blonde hair, shining an almost ivory in the moon pouring through her window, cascaded over her sun-kissed elven skin. He felt the familiar urge to reach out and tuck the hair behind her pointed ear but froze.

She was a traitor and if Brynjolf knew her like he thought he did—nowadays he wasn't so sure—her sole reason for returning would be to gloat in the guild's face. She'd never been good with authority and now the thieves underneath the city were just another form of law that she had to spit at. It was a trait he had once encouraged and adored.

Now it summoned rage deep in his chest.

The Nord never imagined he'd become this bent out of shape over a woman. A bitter laugh began to bubble in his throat, but he forced it down as he considered his next course of action. He could slap her, kiss her, throttle her, as long as her eyes snapped open and saw him there, saw the hell she had put him through. But what would he do then?

_"How long until I drive you mad?" She whispered, lips softly brushing against his._

_ "It's far too late for that, lass."_

_ She hummed and smirked, amber eyes glinting mischievously in the candle-light._

_ "Tell me, Bryn. What's it like being a madman?"_

Brynjolf growled and grabbed the bosmer by the shoulder, rolling her onto her back as her eyes shot open and a surprised gasp ripped itself from her throat.

_"It's pretty damn fantastic."_

She struggled beneath him, legs kicking and nails scratching but Brynjolf pinned her arms over her head and pressed his knees to her thighs. He easily held her wrists in one hand while the other shoved his dagger against her throat, Athyn inhaled sharply and stilled.

"Bryn," Her voice was strained, "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing, _Athyn_," He spit the name like venom, and the elf cautiously glanced at the blade shoved against her neck. She took shallow breaths, wincing at the feel of the steel against her flesh.

"It's not what you think," She defended.

"Really? What is it then, enlighten me!"

"Do you think you could sheathe your blade first?" She asked, flicking her gaze up to meet his eyes. "I kind of have a thing with sharp objects against my neck. Having your throat slit will do that to a person, you understand."

Brynjolf scowled and pressed the dagger harder against her, hearing the elf whimper.

"Don't get smart with me," he warned, "Mercer isn't known for being sloppy, but I have no trouble cleaning up after him in this situation."

"Do it then," She dared. "If you're not going to give me the chance to explain or even believe me I won't waste my breath," She kept her eyes trained on his, making sure he met her gaze. "But, I won't let you take the coward's way out. You will look me straight in the eyes and watch me die by _your _hand."

Brynjolf hardened his expression, gripping the hilt of the dagger tightly in his right hand. Athyn's honey eyes stared back at him, emotionless and waiting for his answer. He tried to steel himself, it would be easy to drag the blade across her skin or at least it should be. He moved his hand on the dagger, fitting it more comfortably in his palm.

_ I can do this…_

He changed the angle of the blade, pressing it to the scar wrapping around the front of the elf's slender throat.

_She deserves this…_

He counted down in his mind, taking deep breaths and moving his eyes to lock with hers. Her gaze seemed empty, but Brynjolf knew every flash of hurt and every sparkle of mischief that graced them. He saw resignation in her eyes…and pain. What did she have to be hurt over? _She _had betrayed _him_! Hadn't she?

_"It's us against the world, Bryn," She said, watching shooting stars reflected on the surface of the lake. "We'll steal the very moons if we have to, but soon all of Skyrim will know that the Thieves Guild is back in business and no one will be able to stop us." She flashed him a grin as he sat beside her, hooking an arm around her shoulders._

_ "With you by my side, lass, I think we could take a lot more than just the moons."_

Brynjolf growled and threw the dagger to the floor, catching a hint of relief in the Bosmer's eyes. She sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but she could only manage a surprised squeak as the Nord crushed his mouth against hers.

The kiss was hot, rough, and demanding, pouring all the anger and heartbreak he had felt over the past weeks into the one action, forcing the elf to feel the torrent of emotion that had plagued him all this time.

Athyn's arms were still trapped above her head and all she could do was arch into the large nord as she tried to match the pace of his lips. This wasn't how she had expected their reunion to go, but she'd be lying if she said this was an unwelcome turn of events. Brynjolf was fierce, crushing her lips to the point of bruising but the only sensations Athyn could focus on was the meshing of lips and the gnawing of teeth.

By the time Brynjolf pulled away Athyn was gasping for breath, lips swollen and torso pressed tightly against the nord's chest as she weakly struggled to free her wrists. Brynjolf brushed the back of his finger against the scar along Athyn's throat, slowly sliding his hand from her neck into her hair and gripping the blonde locks tightly in order to arch her head back.

"You'll tell me everything," It was an order, not a request, and the presence of Brynjolf's dagger still within reach meant Athyn had no choice but to acquiesce. Though, her pride had taken a backseat to the desire to feel his lips on hers again and she affirmed her cooperation with a tight nod. Brynjolf released the hold he had on her wrists, snaking his arm around her waist to hold her tighter to him as her arms wrapped around his neck. He lowered his head to trace her scar with his lips, "Starting with how you got this."

"We…we tracked Karliah to the inner sanctum," Athyn sighed, feeling him kiss and nip at the upraised flesh, "she shot me. It was a poisoned arrow meant for Mercer. They spoke about Gallus and the guild, how Mercer murdered him and left him there in Snow Veil Sanctum."

"What?" Brynjolf raised his head from her neck, eyes wide in shock. Athyn nodded once, hands sliding over to rest on his shoulders.

"Mercer realized that I wasn't dead at that point. After Karliah retreated he came over and…finished me off. She healed me, I guess," Athyn bit back to urge to trash-talk the Dunmer sleeping downstairs. Despite their differences, Athyn couldn't deny that she'd be dead if it weren't for the dark elf's help. "She has this journal, she says it was Gallus's. That's why we came back to Riften, to show the guild and to prove our innocence."

"What does the journal say?"

"It says that Gallus believed Mercer was stealing from the guild," Karliah cut in. Athyn and Brynjolf jumped, looking over toward the stairs at the Dunmer who leaned casually against the banister.

"How long have you been standing there?" Athyn growled, reluctantly moving out of Brynjolf's hold. Karliah pushed away from the stairs and walked over to the couple as Athyn grabbed a robe off the back of her chair and wrapped it around her body.

"Long enough, though I figured I should make my presence known before things…escalated. It's good to see you again, Brynjolf," She said, turning her attention to the Nord who looked far less humiliated than the Bosmer.

"Karliah," He eyed her warily, but judging by what Athyn had told him, he didn't need to be suspicious of her any longer. "About this journal…"

Karliah held the battered book up for him to see and handed it over without a second thought. Brynjolf looked the cover over, it did resemble the book he had seen the old Guild Master writing in on occasion. He flipped through the pages to the last couple of entries, brow furrowing as he read the words that had been translated for convenience.

"We need to get this to the guild," he said at last. "But, there's no way Mercer could be getting into the Vault as Gallus suggests, that door is impossible to open without all the keys and I still have mine with me."

"Mercer has something not meant to be used by mortal men," Karliah warned. "No locks will withstand him."

"Now that you mention it," Athyn murmured. "You're right. He was able to get past that puzzle door in the Sanctum without one of those claws, which is damn impossible to do…I've tried."

"Mercer left Riften a while ago," Brynjolf said, snapping the journal shut. "He said he was going after you."

"Then we must get to the guild right away and find out where he's gone," Karliah grabbed her bow from the corner near the stairs and slipped it over her shoulder. "I've rested enough, we need to find Mercer and put an end to this."

"I call the killing blow," Athyn scowled. "It's all that bastard deserves, killing me and breaking my bow, I'll make sure he begs for death."

"The final blow will be decided by who is in the prime position," Karliah said in a bored tone, "and I highly doubt Mercer would have trashed your home and abused your weapon in such a way after your death. He thinks himself above all that."

Athyn rolled her eyes, grabbing her armor from the floor. "Well, if not him then who? At any rate, when I find the bastard that _did_ break in, he's in for a world of hurt, and if Mercer just happens to be target practice for the _real _culprit, I don't see what the big deal is."

"I'll just meet you two back at the guild then," Brynjolf interjected. "Make sure the rest of them don't cut you down as soon as you step into the Flagon."

"That may be a good idea, Brynjolf," Karliah said, "We'll be down there shortly."

Athyn gave the nord a lingering glance before untying her robe and tossing it to the floor, replacing it with her leather armor.

Brynjolf left through the back door, slinking his way through the night as his mind processed all the new information he had been given. His lover was alive, and she was innocent. Karliah was innocent. Mercer was the murderer and it suddenly felt as though Brynjolf's world had be flipped in a mirror, everything he thought he knew had been wrong all along. All lies spun by Mercer to cover his own tail.

And he would pay, Brynjolf vowed, one way or another.


End file.
